


Midnight in the Garden of Earthly Delights

by ShahbanouScheherazade



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dream Sex, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Foreplay, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 15:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShahbanouScheherazade/pseuds/ShahbanouScheherazade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hector Barbossa despised her, and she feared and hated him in return. She should have been glad he was dead. Why would she dream about him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight in the Garden of Earthly Delights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FreedomOftheSeas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreedomOftheSeas/gifts).



> This one-shot is a "lost" episode of Barbossa and the King's Messenger, and takes place in the beginning of Chapter 12.
> 
> To My Readers: Thank you so much for your kudos and comments. It means a lot to me when I hear your feedback, and I wanted to let you know how much I appreciate your support!

When my journey from Anatolia finally ended with my return to Tia Dalma’s shack, she immediately sat me down to a most welcome supper, and I kept my conversation to matters other than the black-hearted rascal sleeping in the small downstairs room.

She questioned me about my few days in Tortuga, and I told her of my disappointing encounter with James there. “I never want to see Tortuga again,” I told her. “It was awful.”

However, I was exceedingly curious, and fearful of Barbossa awakening and killing me; therefore, I finally ventured on that subject after supper ended.

"Is Barbossa awake now?" I asked her. "Will he be leaving soon?"

"Nah," she replied. "Him still restin'. An' him monkey quiet, too. Look," she gestured towards the room.

“How is he?” I asked, looking down at my lap and feeling very awkward.

“Comin’ back slow to de world,” she replied. After a pause, she gave me a sidelong look and added, “Yuh saw dat hairpin him been keepin’? De one yuh left on de _Pearl_?”

This made me flush with confusion. Barbossa had despised me from the moment we met, and had threatened to kill me on the day he marooned Jack. I could not reconcile that memory with the man sleeping in the next room who had kept my hairpin for ten years.

The night I had brought his body back to Tia Dalma from Isla de Muerta, when he lay half-conscious, unable to tell where he was or who stood beside his bed, I could not forget what he had murmured to me: “I know ye, little bird. Ye opened yer cage and flew away.” These words had struck at my heart, and my fear of him mingled with an opposing desire to embrace him, consequences be damned, until I could bear it no longer, and I had rushed from the room.

Unable to meet Tia Dalma’s eyes, I made an excuse and retired upstairs to my room for the night.

Once in bed, I found I could not banish Barbossa from my thoughts. I mused over the days I had spent with his lifeless form cradled in my lap ~~,~~ and the strange feelings of tenderness towards my enemy that had arisen in my breast. It was only my steadfast obstinacy that kept me from acknowledging the conclusion to which they pointed.

To distract myself, I resorted to a game I had invented as a child. I closed my eyes, but pretended that my eyelids did not prevent me from seeing my room. I pretended I could see the window, the moonlight, the constellation Orion hanging in the sky, and every detail of the room’s furnishings. Then I imagined myself rising from the bed, leaving the room and slowly descending the stairs. I pictured my surroundings as if I were standing at the bottom step; and then I must have fallen into a deep sleep.

At the beginning of my dream, I was standing at my mirror in my shift, about to brush my hair, and realised someone had entered the room. I turned to the door, and saw Barbossa standing there, watching me with an expression I had never observed before. There was desire in it, but also tenderness. I felt none of the fear I experienced in my brief time on the _Pearl_ ; instead, I was filled with the same placid tenderness I had felt when bringing his body to Tia Dalma.

I smiled warmly, glad of his presence. “Are you in my dream?” I asked, recalling how I had cradled him in my lap on the journey from Isla de Muerta.

“Aye, or else ye be in mine. I’ve been dreamin’ it fer ten years,” he answered, approaching me. “Ye brought me back. Now I want ye to bring back the rest o’ me.”

He put his hands upon my waist and caressed me softly; making my heart pound harder, though outwardly I remained calm and pliant.

“I should have done this ten years ago,” he muttered. “Let me feel ye.”

When I didn’t resist him, he leaned down and slid his hands around me until he had a firm grasp on my rump, feeling the firmness of my muscles through the fabric of my shift. I closed my eyes and felt his mouth press against mine as he kissed me – a sensuous, lingering kiss. _My first kiss from you,_ I thought, trembling slightly.

He took me by the hand and led me to my bed, where we lay down together without speaking, and he began to run his hands over me in a slow, gentle fashion, occasionally kissing my lips lightly. Gradually I began to sigh and press myself closer to him, luxuriating in the sweetness of his touch, and seeking ever more intimate caresses.

After a little while, he stood up, and I watched breathlessly as he removed his clothes. He was a handsome man, standing naked in the moonlight, and I stared at his tall, lean body, his strongly muscled legs and chest, but I found the most exquisite pleasure in gazing upon his large, stiffening cock, which stood forth like a pale, stone pillar surrounded by a rich thicket of dark hair, below which hung two delicate globes. I couldn’t take my eyes from this marvellous sight, and watched his cock move slightly as he lay down next to me once again.

“I want t’ taste, smell, feel again,” he said, kissing me after each word. He embraced me and brought me close to his chest. Then he kissed my mouth, and I knew what was going to happen, and that, at least in my dream, I was in love with him in a way I had never thought to experience.

“Yer m’ first,” he said, “after bein’ killed.” He started slowly; rubbing me through my shift, warming my body by degrees. I sighed with a strange, aching need, as he caressed my neck, feeding me with more kisses and gradually working his hands down over my shift, until he reached my breasts. The warmth and friction of his touch there made me eager for more of his attentions, and I shared more kisses with him.

While we were thus occupied, he must have been loosening the drawstring of my shift without my realising it, for it fell open of its own accord when he parted the two corners of its neckline, and exposed my upper body. Having breached the barrier of my shift, he rubbed his palms across my bare breasts, and squeezed each one gently, still kissing me.

He gave me a wicked grin. “Be still,” he murmured. “As long as ye can. Ye’ll have yer chance when I tell ye.” My belly tightened, and long, slow waves of desire began to roll through my body. I prayed silently that he would continue this wonderful, new way of touching me.

He next put his rough thumbs upon my nipples, and began to rub them in a circular motion, watching as they became tight and erect. He took them in his fingers, pinching them lightly, and flicked his tongue across them as I moaned and squirmed under his caresses. I would have kissed him passionately, but instead, he put his lips on each nipple and took it into his mouth, using stronger movements of his tongue to tease me. I caught my breath, and fell to groaning from the exquisite tingling sensations he was giving me. I was very desirous of still more and deeper pleasures, though I had only indistinct ideas of what they might be.

When I had been overpowered by the passion whose flames he was fanning, he lifted the hem of my shift. Again he rubbed his hands over my smooth waist and belly, reaching down to twine his fingers through the downy curls that surrounded my cunny. He touched the wetness that was beginning to flow from it, moistening my thighs and making me desperately crave the sensation of his cock inside of me. My face and chest flushed red as I tried to remain still, sighing and breathing with quiet gasps.

“D’ ye find me pleasin’?” he whispered, as he brought me close again, so that my breasts brushed against the wiry hair on his chest.

I nodded, unable to speak for fear of interrupting him. _Dear heaven, how I want this man,_ I thought. My greatest fear was that I would awaken from this dream only half-satisfied. _Let me dream all night,_ I thought. _Let this go on forever._

He turned me slightly so that he could run his hand across my buttocks, and as he did so, the pleasure of it made his cock swell and move again, and I felt it touch my thigh. He pulled me into a sitting position, then pulled my shift off and threw it on the floor. Now we were naked together. He lowered his head and sucked on my nipple until I cried out with joy; then, kissing my mouth, he took my hand and placed it on his swollen cock.

“Now I’ll let ye play with me,” he said.

I felt it twitch as I wrapped my fingers around the curved shaft of this, the most wonderful of all his endowments. It was as smooth and hard as ivory, and I longed to press my lips against it. Barbossa moved my fingers to the delicate area just below the head of his cock, and showed me how to slide the skin gently back and forth over the hard flesh beneath it. When I heard the way it made him groan with pleasure, I set myself to practice this stroking to perfection, and he put his own hand around the base of his shaft, so as to prolong his pleasure and not bring our play to its climax just yet.

The sight of him touching himself fired my own lust, and I bent down and kissed the head of his cock, enjoying the perfect smoothness of his skin, and touching my tongue to the little pool of moisture at its tip. I breathed in the musky, male scent of him and, pushing my lips into a pout, rubbed them against him, kissing his cock again and again, and finally slipping it into my mouth, where I let my tongue wash over it, as he shivered and clutched at my shoulders. I relaxed my throat and drew him completely into my mouth, sucking and swallowing as he strained and moaned in ecstasy.

Determined to bestow my passions on every part of him, I gradually released his cock and turned my attention to his bollocks. I lowered my face to his groin, and kissed the fine, wiry hair, inhaling his strong, musky odour. I gazed at his handsome balls, and touched them very tenderly with my fingers, stroking them lightly, and tracing the separation between them. They seemed to become firmer as I did so, and draw closer to his cock. I continued my soft caresses, and reached behind them to stroke the firm mound of flesh that ran back between his legs. He enjoyed my attentions, alternately tensing and relaxing his body, and finally changed his position so that we faced one another again.

“Open yer mouth,” he told me softly, taking my chin in his hand and pressing his thumb under my lower lip. I did, and he kissed me deeply, thrusting his strong tongue into my mouth as far as it would go. A new wave of longing ran through my veins, and I opened my mouth wider, pushing my tongue past his, and feeling the inside of his mouth, as my lust for him became nearly uncontrollable.

We clasped each other tightly, and then he laid me down on my back. He knelt over my body, facing my legs and letting the tip of his cock touch my lips. He was breathing hard, groaning, ready to possess me and enjoy his release, but he wanted still more. “I mean t’ take every pleasure denied me,” he said, panting. “Everything I’ve been wantin’ fer ten years.”

I raised my head and kissed his cock, licking it with the tip of my tongue, and he lowered himself slightly, so I could lie back and take him in my mouth. I reached up with one hand and gently stroked his balls as I sucked on him.

“Yer me little lamb, ain’t ye?” he said in a husky voice. “Me juicy little lamb… an’ I mean t’ pin ye down an’ eat ye.” Then he put his head between my legs, and bit me lightly on my inner thigh. He pressed the folds of my skin apart with his fingers; and the next thing I felt was the rasp of his whiskers and the grainy surface of his tongue on the most sensitive spot of my body, as he started to lick my cunny.

So intense was the stimulation of his face between my legs, his warm breath on my skin, and his tongue working against the very centre of all my voluptuous pleasure, that it nearly drove me over the edge. He used his mouth skilfully to control the rising waves of passion that overtook me, and I began to crave things and sensations I’d never dreamed of. I let my hands stray over his skin, touching his chest, his belly, and his balls, as I sucked on him, and he continued to put his tongue to use until he was satisfied that I was sufficiently aroused.

Then he changed position and lay down next to me again. Putting his lips to my ear, he confided his secret desire. “I want ye to do somethin’ fer me,” he said, looking into my eyes and stroking my jaw. “I want ye to tie me up.” I gazed into those wonderful blue eyes and saw lust, desire, and beneath that, a plea for fulfilment that melted my heart.

I gave him my answer with a kiss, and then tied his wrists to my bed, letting my breasts touch his face as I did so. I played with his cock, kissed his balls as he groaned and panted, and then, with one hand firmly around his cock, I gently parted his legs. “I want to do something special for you,” I said, stroking his thighs with my palm. “I’ve never tried it, but I promise I won’t hurt you.” I kissed his mouth, and whispered, “But you must be still.” He nodded, and I experienced a great feeling of power over him, which made my heart very tender.

He lay still, and I encouraged him to relax, as I dipped my finger into a jar of some cooking oil I had brought from Anatolia, and made sure my grip on his cock was secure. Then, very slowly, I began to push my finger into his anus. My patience was rewarded when I touched his prostate. Barbossa gave a sharp gasp. “Did that hurt you, sweetheart?” I asked softly.

“Nay,” he whispered, “Go on,” and he lay quite still in anticipation. I slowly massaged his prostate, and he began to moan and grunt with each little stroke. His body was almost shaking with the effort to remain still, but I kept on, putting pressure on his cock to delay his spending still longer. Finally he groaned in desperation, “Hurry, or ye’ll have me jism all over yer ceiling.”

I removed my finger, and straddled him. As I lowered myself onto his cock, and he drove that marvellous part of him deeper and deeper into me, I felt a rush of heat and moisture in my cunny.

He laughed and said hoarsely, “Be this a dream, or are ye truly so deep?” I rocked slowly, with undulating motions of my hips, and the swelling of my own flesh surrounded his cock with just enough tightness to give us both even more pleasure. I was ready to die in his arms, to enter “la petite mort”, as they call the pinnacle of earthly pleasure. But he discerned this and, to my amazement, said, “Not yet.”

He strained mightily against the ties, and as I leaned forward and unbound his hands, he took my nipple into his mouth, brushed his tongue across it, and kissed me there once more.

Then he held me by my hips, and helped me turn around, keeping his cock in me, so that I was facing his legs. I cupped his balls in my palm, which made him lose control. Before I knew what was happening, he seized me and threw me down, and I felt his smooth, hard cock sliding over me. Then he plunged back into me and forced my legs up until my ankles were resting on his shoulders. “So supple,” he groaned. “I intend t’ fuck the wits out of ye.”

My muscles clenched and I seized him, clawing at his back as he did the same, raking his long nails across me. Impossibly, I wished to be even more united with him. The world around me was starting to vanish.

Each slow stab of his cock brought me closer to orgasm. I felt his balls touch my body each time he thrust into me. He fucked me faster, slamming his cock into me harder each time, reaching a level of passion we knew could not be sustained for long. His strokes became quicker and stronger, and after a short time, he said, panting in my ear, “Are ye ready?” I nodded, unable to speak for gasping and moaning. Then he placed my hand on his testicles, “Squeeze gently,” he murmured.

I was most careful in this caress, and Hector gave two or three short, violent thrusts before nature conquered us both at last. Finally, gasping and groaning loudly, he spent in me, pressing himself into me deeply, and I gave in completely to an ecstasy I had never imagined.

I felt each spasm of his cock, each spurt of his jism, as he spent himself, and the world itself consisted only of the union of our two bodies – there was nothing else. _Fill me up,_ I thought. _Fill me with your seed, make me pregnant; eat me. I belong to you. You are all I want._ The orgasm seemed to last forever, my inner muscles pulsing as I surrendered to the waves of passion I couldn’t stop, although the rest of my body became relaxed and nearly motionless.

When we were at last quiet, he rolled off of me, and folded me against his chest. As his arms tightened around me, I thought, _I could love you. I do love you. I love you, Hector Barbossa._ We kissed gently, the same kiss, over and over.

“Perfect,” I said, my lips touching his. “You are my perfect man.”

“We be well matched,” he murmured between kisses. “There be no lady above ye.”

I awoke slowly from my sleep like a swimmer floating gradually to the ocean’s surface, and for a moment or two, the dream was still so real to me that I forgot to be fearful of Barbossa, or embarrassed at my hidden desires. But after several minutes, the morning sun brought me to the shocking realisation of what I had just dreamed about this dangerous, dirty, cunning old rogue whom I hated. My eyes flew open, and I saw that my shift was on the floor and I was tangled in the bedding. What I thought was his leg entwined with mine was only a bed-sheet, but I still felt the after-effects of the dream – a deep, unexplainable satisfaction and a heaviness in my limbs.

 _No, it wasn’t Barbossa,_ I reasoned _, not the scheming, cruel scoundrel lying asleep until Tia Dalma recalls him to consciousness. Impossible. It must have been a dream of Orion; it had to be. And yet . . . what harm is there in imagining another Barbossa, a different man altogether? One who would lie with me and love me in that way._

I paced the room, and decided to let the dream linger a few moments longer.

I wondered if Tia Dalma’s spancel had caused my dream, and I listened for noises downstairs. Finally, I was sure that he was not awake, and that he still lay under the enchanted sleep imposed by Tia Dalma. I could not bear to encounter the actual, living person. Faced with the real Barbossa, the dream was simply one of those outrageous things people may dream, but would never actually do.

 _And yet,_ I thought, _if only he were different._ Still fighting the physical longing for him, I walked back to my bed. _Hector,_ _Hector; if only it were true,_ I thought. I knelt down and laid my face against the pillow, and was almost swept away with emotion. Was it my imagination, or was the sudden throbbing of my heart caused by a faint, lingering scent in the bed of one who could not possibly have lain there?

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own no part of Pirates of the Caribbean.


End file.
